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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127499">Loaners</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denois/pseuds/Denois'>Denois</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, clearing up some misunderstandings, post 4.8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:53:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denois/pseuds/Denois</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex moved out. Dex moved all his stuff out. Dex still had some books that Nursey's loaned him. </p><p>Going down and demanding his books back seemed like a good idea to sooth his hurt heart. Dex probably hadn't read them anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Loaners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I saw <a href="https://knit-my-feelings.tumblr.com/post/637709550470004736/the-boston-globe-massachusetts-march-29-1922">this post</a> and my brain immediately decided to write this instead of what I was supposed to be writing because that's how it do.</p><blockquote>
  <p>It would be easy to forgive the man who keeps books that he borrowed from you years ago if you didn't feel dead sure that he never reads 'em.<br/>-The Boston Globe, Massachusetts, March 29, 1922</p>
</blockquote>Thanks go to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/draskireis">Draskireis</a> for giving a look over.
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It rankled. It galled. It vexed. </p><p>Nursey paced across the floor of their - his - room.</p><p>Dex had moved out. Like, officially moved out. He’d taken the last of his stuff down to the basement. </p><p>The room was all Nursey’s. </p><p>Which was the opposite of what he wanted.</p><p>Nursey flopped onto his bean bag chair.</p><p>It was like Dex didn’t even care. About the room. About their friendship.</p><p>About Nursey.</p><p>He hadn’t even tried to fight to stay. Not really. </p><p>Sure, he’d pushed back at first. They’d had some good banter then.</p><p>But then he’d just pulled away. Retreated. Built a fucking bunker under Nursey’s bed. Like he couldn’t even stand to sleep near him.</p><p>And then he’d moved out. </p><p>Leaving Nursey alone.</p><p>Listless. Lethargic. Lackadaisical.</p><p>What Nursey needed, Nursey decided, was a distraction. He pulled himself up and looked over the books on his shelves. There were several gaps in his collection.</p><p>Constab Ballads. Harlem Shadows. Home to Harlem. Gingertown. A Long Way from Home. Harlem: Negro Metropolis.</p><p>All McKay. All borrowed by the same person. </p><p>The first borrowed fall of their freshman year. The most recent borrowed a month ago.</p><p>It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d ever seen Dex so much as open one of them. </p><p>He was on the first floor and opening the door to the basement before he’d really thought about what he was doing. He didn’t let himself think about it much then, either, just pushed on until he was knocking on the bungalow door.</p><p>Dex seemed surprised to see him, when he opened the door, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t slam the door on Nursey either, just stood there. Watching him. Waiting.</p><p>“I loaned you some books. I need them back.”</p><p>Dex blinked in response. “You need them al-?” He broke off and snapped his mouth shut with a small nod. “Ayuh. Just give me a minute.”</p><p>He disappeared from the doorway, but didn’t close the door, so Nursey stepped into the little bungalow. Dex had the decency not to pretend that he didn’t know what books Nursey meant, and, to Nursey’s surprise, was very efficient in retrieving them. </p><p>Two pulled from the shelves next to a rather comfortable looking reading chair. One from the desk next to Dex’s open laptop. Another from his backpack. He disappeared into another room, Nursey got a glimpse of what looked like a comforter so it was probably his bedroom, and returned with the final two. </p><p>He held them out to Nursey unceremoniously, face impassive. “Thank you for letting me borrow them.”</p><p>“Yep.” </p><p>He took the books back out of the bungalow. Back up two flights of stairs. Back to where they belonged in his room. </p><p>He told himself that he was imagining it. That there hadn’t been a minute quirk of Dex’s mouth, a tiny softness in Dex’s eyes, when he’d thanked Nursey. </p><p>Dex was just being polite. He wasn’t recognizing the baring of Nursey’s soul that the loan of those books had been. That Nursey had hoped he would see in reading them. </p><p>An annoying part of Nursey’s brain whispered that he couldn’t be upset that Dex hadn’t read the books. Dex hadn’t even asked to borrow them. Nursey had offered them. Had offered himself. One bit at a time. </p><p>He couldn’t get upset that Dex didn’t want something he’d never asked for.</p><p>He just really really wanted Dex to want it. Him.</p><p>But he didn’t. And he’d moved out. And it was fine.</p><p>Nursey dropped the small pile of books on the ground beside his bean bag chair, then dropped himself into the chair. </p><p>He randomly picked up the top book from the pile. Harlem Shadows.</p><p>He randomly opened it. </p><p>Or maybe not so random. There was a piece of paper tucked between the pages, close to the spine like a bookmark by a person afraid it will fall out when jostled.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Insp for “Eclipse”?</p>
</blockquote>“The Barrier” was not his inspiration, but he could see the similarities.<p>He flipped through the book, stopping several times to read several more small papers with Dex’s rough scrawl.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Nurse quotes this</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Look up metaphor</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Yeah.</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>?</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Nurse</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Pretty</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>:(</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Same theme as “Piquant”?</p>
</blockquote>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Ayuh</p>
</blockquote><p>It took an astonishingly long time for Nursey to realize that there was a note for nearly every poem in the book. To recognize that there were additional notes added onto the thin scraps of paper, in different ink, with a slight difference to Dex’s hand. To realize that when Dex wrote “yeah” what he meant was “same”. </p><p>There were no fewer notes in the other books, though the fiction and nonfiction had more meta analysis questions and far far fewer claims of similarity. There were also a large number of papers with only a number scrawled on them. It took an embarrassingly long time for Nursey to realize they were Dewey Decimal call numbers. Looking them up online confirmed; Dex had been checking out reference books to better understand the books that Nursey had loaned him.</p><p>And based on the notes, the ones that extrapolated from the early twentieth century to the early twenty-first, Dex hadn’t been far off of his own interpretations. He wasn’t exact. There were things about being Black, and maybe about New York City, that Dex wouldn’t ever really understand. But there was proof, physical undeniable proof, that Dex was trying. Had been trying. Had read and reread and referenced and cited and questioned and answered. </p><p>Once again, Nursey was knocking on the bungalow door before he thought about what he was doing. </p><p>If Dex was surprised to see him again, it didn’t manage to break through the tiredness in his eyes or the set of his jaw. </p><p>“I, uh. I was wrong. I don’t need the books back. If you were still reading them. You can keep, um, borrowing them.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Nurse. I should have given them back before. If I haven’t figured them out by now, I’m not going to, right? It’s-.” He stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and Nursey did not watch how his chest rose and fell with it. “It’s chill.”</p><p>“You did.” </p><p>It was called through the closing gap of the door. Dex had apparently decided there was nothing else to say, but as usual, he was wrong.</p><p>The door opened fractionally. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“‘Eclipse’ wasn’t inspired by ‘The Barrier’, but yeah, they probably had similar inspirations. You remembered my poems, both the names and the themes and the words. You-.” He stopped and shook his head, not in denial but just waggling it back and forth to try to sum up the entirety of the papers he’d just read. “You listen to the poems I quote and remember them. You recognize some of my favorites that I never quote. And that’s just the two that were poetry.” </p><p>He looked down at the books in his hands, then back at Dex.</p><p>“You did get it. Maybe not perfectly, or all of it, but. Ch’yeah. You did mad amounts of research and you didn’t have to.”</p><p>“I wanted to understand what you were sharing with me.” Dex’s voice sounded wary, defensive. Like he expected an argument.</p><p>“I was sharing me.” </p><p>Dex had spent two years deciphering metaphor and meta analysis. Nursey could probably stand to admit that much plainly. To his surprise Dex just shrugged.</p><p>“Like I said.”</p><p>Nursey swallowed hard. He wasn’t prepared for Dex knowing what he’d been doing. He’d resolved himself to Dex brushing him off, rejecting him outright, just not getting it. When he read the papers, he figured Dex had researched just because the puzzle was there. Even remembering the poems and fragments of arguments. Pattern recognition.</p><p>But Dex hadn’t just been recognizing patterns and making connections. Dex had known that he’d shared the books to share himself. </p><p>“Why did you move out?”</p><p>“You didn’t want me there. You thought I’d be in the attic. You didn’t want to share a room with me. Like you said, you’d run me out of the room eventually. And you deserved your own space.”</p><p>“I thought. I thought you’d fight to stay.” </p><p>Dex glanced down at the books in Nursey’s hands. “I must have missed that part.”</p><p>Nursey adjusted his grip on the books and shifted his stance. “I figured, you know, if I shared space with you, I’d share me with you. And-” He puffed his cheeks with air and let it out slowly before continuing. “If you wanted to know me then you’d fight for it. For us.”</p><p>“I don’t do that. And I’m kind of slow with subtext.” He gestured at the books again, then stepped back. “Do you, uh. Do you want to come in?”</p><p>Nursey nodded silently and followed him into the little sitting and study area.</p><p>Dex paused beside the chair Nursey’d noticed before. “It’s not, well, it’s probably not as comfortable as your bean bag chair. But it’s got lumbar support.”</p><p>Nursey set the books down on the closest empty surface he found. “What did you mean when you said you don’t do that?”</p><p>There were a lot of ways to take that phrase and his brain was bouncing between them like a pinball. It was probably the intimacy thing. The sharing thing. That’s what Dex didn’t do. He was going to get crushed again after all but confessing his crush. </p><p>“Fight to stay when I’m not wanted. Like, I’ll fight for a spot I earned, but I’m not going to force myself into people’s lives and spaces if they don’t want me. Consent.” </p><p>Dex wasn’t looking at him. Dex was staring at the chair and taking slow deep breaths.</p><p>Kind of similar to the breaths Nursey was taking, now that he thought about it.</p><p>“You think this chair isn’t as comfortable as my bean bag chair?”</p><p>“Probably not.”</p><p>Nursey nodded. “There’s only one way to find out. Can I sit?”</p><p>“That’s what it’s- I mean. That’s what it’s for?”</p><p>Nursey barely contained the eye roll. Of course sitting was what chairs were for. He was trying to make a connection here.</p><p>He sat down, then relaxed into the chair. Then pulled one foot up under his other leg. Then shifted so his legs were over one arm and his back propped up by the other. Then back to sitting mostly normal. “Chill, Poindexter. It’s mad comfy. I could probably sit in it for hours.”</p><p>“Only if you want to.” Dex glanced at him and then away.</p><p>“Oh, this is….” He trailed off and looked around again. </p><p>Dex hadn’t made a place to get away from him. Dex had made a place to invite him in. </p><p>“Do you dinner?”</p><p>“What?” Dex was at least looking at him again. Though this time with his brow completely furrowed because Nursey’d managed to skip about half or more of the question he’d been trying to ask.</p><p>“Do you want to get dinner with me? As a date?”</p><p>Dex was nodding minutely. “Oh, uh.  Yeah. Yeah, that would be. Yeah.” </p><p>The nodding got a bit more pronounced and Nursey grinned. “Fair warning, I <em>do</em> believe in kissing on the first date.”</p><p>Dex was still nodding even as he tilted his head toward the books. “I guessed. There’s a lot of poems about one night stands in those.”</p><p>Nursey reached out and hooked his pinky with Dex’s. “To be clear? That’s not what I was asking for.”</p><p>Finally, a small smile broke on Dex’s face. “Good. Me neither.”</p>
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